


Reconnect

by Mando_Cyare



Series: Connections [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Creampie, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Naked Female Clothed Male, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, The Helmet Stays On, Touch-Starved, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22391674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mando_Cyare/pseuds/Mando_Cyare
Summary: She was a mechanic, and had worked on the Razor Crest before The Child.  The Mandalorian saved her then, and then a second time when he brought the Imperials down on her town when he landed for repairs with the kid in tow.But she didn't blame him; he did offer her a job as his mechanic, after all.  And the kid was cute.  But she could only live in close proximity to the Mandalorian for so long without things getting... complicated.Stars, she was an idiot.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Connections [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658815
Comments: 25
Kudos: 267





	Reconnect

There was no shortage of dodgy cantinas in the Outer Rim. This one was no different. Garbled music pumped through a few crackling speakers, almost drowned out by the floating of chatter in conversation. This particular locale was the apparent favorite of his current quarry.

Din didn’t pay the girl much attention initially, no more than he did the other patrons with a quick once over. She was dressed simply in mechanic’s overalls, smeared with grease and patched at the knees. Rolled up sleeves revealed a few tattoos, but nothing of note.

She was drinking alone at the bar, tired and dirty and obviously in no mood for company. Din’s eyes slid away from her, content to wait out his prey in the corner he’d settled in. A few hours passed without any sign of the quarry, but Din was a patient man.

A short time later, a slightly raised voice drew his attention back to the bar. A human was standing over the woman from before, his large frame highlighting just how small she was. She was still staring resolutely ahead, but even from a distance, the Mandalorian could see the way her hand tightened on her drink, her jaw shifting with tension. Her back straightened as another man stepped in beside his companion, effectively blocking the woman from Din’s view.

The first man said something vulgar in Huttese, and Din saw his arm move as if reaching out. Then the man blocking Din’s view cried out, doubling over in pain, clutching his throat and gasping, the other standing rigid and still. As he toppled out of the way, Din saw the little slip of humanity with her fist clenched _tight_ between the other man’s legs. His face had gone pale.

“Unless you wanna loose these, I suggest back the _fuck_ off,” the woman spat out in basic. Her accent wasn’t local, speaking of some sort of formal education.

Din shifted his body, ready to get up and move. But the woman seemed to have things well in hand. So to speak.

The man snarled and tried to grab for her. She let go of his balls and smacked the hand away, darting around him and jamming her elbow into his kidney. Din winced; that shit _hurt_. With the second man groaning on the floor, the woman finished her drink, slammed the cup and her credits down, and stormed out of the cantina.

Inside his helmet, Din made a quiet sound of amusement, settling back to wait once more.

000

It was an easy catch later in the night.

 _Too_ easy, Din found out, as the bastard had dropped a small explosive before he was put into carbonite. The device blew a hole in the hull and shorted out the system that retracted the landing gear. The Mandalorian wasn’t going anywhere just yet. Thankfully, the port had an attached mechanic, and Din stalked over the next morning, soot still smudged on his armor.

There was movement inside when he stepped through the door. Venturing further in, Din saw someone rummaging through a crate under the table. They seemed occupied, and he took a moment to look around. The shop was organized chaos, collections of parts sorted into boxes and stacked neatly on every available surface. On closer inspection, each box was also clearly labeled.

“Can I help you with something?” a woman’s voice called, emanating from under the table. Din looked back. She was still rummaging, her back to him. Observant little thing; he was used to people jumping when they noticed him. Or not noticing him at all. Then he realized that her voice was slightly familiar.

“Had some trouble with a bounty,” he said, watching her as she crawled backwards and stood, brushing her hands off on her coveralls. “Need some repairs.”

When the woman turned, he took her in at a glance. Pale skin freckled by the sun, dark eyes, and dark brown hair that had been shaved short on one side. It was the same woman from the bar. She didn’t balk at his armor or masked face, just giving him a cursory once over. 

Something in the way her eye lingered on his weapons was almost… tactical. Considerate in a way civilians usually weren’t. That wasn’t terribly unusual; you couldn’t throw a stone in the Outer Rim without hitting a veteran from the rebellion.

“Heard there was a Mandalorian running around,” she said finally. “I can send my diag droid over here in a few—”

“No droids,” Din said simply, using the tone of voice that people usually found intimidating and decided not to question.

The woman just shrugged. “Up to you. Gimme a few minutes.”

000

She arrived with hovering tool cabinet in tow. She stopped at the hole in the hull, blinking a few times before she whistled. “When you said ‘trouble’, you weren’t kidding,” she muttered. She ran her gloved fingers over the edges. “Pretty sure I have what you need though.”

She had to go up on her toes to peek through and into the inner workings of the hull. Din watched one small arm vanish inside, her face screwing up in concentration. She jumped and scowled, coming back with a bloody finger that she stuck into her mouth. Stepping back, she turned to face Din.

“If you have the credits for a rush job, I can get it done in three days,” she said. “I also rent rooms if you want a real bath. Either way, half the cost up front.”

“Three days is fine,” he said, his helmet dipping slightly with a nod. “I sleep on the ship.”

“Suit yourself.”

000

Her name was Tesabi Mockri, and she finished the work in _two_ days.

Everything was done when Din returned from a supply run, the planet’s sky painted in warm colors in the gathering dusk. The lights were out in her shop, but the window of her living quarters above it were lit. Din approached the shop front, hand raised to knock. He wanted to drop off the other half of his payment and be on his way.

Then he realized that the door was open, the keypad burnt and dark. That… wasn’t good.

A muffled thud from the floor above had the Mandalorian shoving the door open, a quick look revealing the stairs. He didn’t have it in him to just leave with his repaired ship. The moment he came to the top of the stairs, a body toppled past him, crashing to the floor with a knife in his chest. Din barely spared it a glance, stepping into the light spilling out of Tesabi’s bedroom, blaster drawn.

Her smaller form was obscured by a much larger one, her legs kicking wildly beneath the bulk. Din fired without hesitation, the body slumping as he moved forward and yanked it off of the smaller woman. Gasping, Tesabi scrambled free, immediately starting to cough and gag, clutching her throat with bloody hands.

A quick once over revealed a torn shirt, the rip exposing a long stripe of pale stomach below her bra. Thankfully, the rest of her clothes were intact. One eye was already starting to swell, her nose was broken and bloody, and her bottom lip was split.

Cautious eyes flicked up at Din, then to the blaster in his hand. “Thanks,” she said, the broken rasp of her voice making him wince. 

Crouching down beside her, he reached out and pulled her hands from her neck. Through the smears of blood, he saw the beginnings of more bruising, the skin raw and red. All in all, it seemed superficial. He felt her watching him as he looked her over, then saw her flinch as she took a breath.

“Ribs?” he asked.

Tesabi grit her teeth, touching her side gingerly. “Yup. Other bastard got some kicks in.” Before he could offer, she pulled up her shirt. “Can you—kriff!—can you see if anything is broken?” 

The touch of his gloved hands was surpassingly gentle at first, as if expecting her to revoke permission to touch her. It became clinical when she didn’t, prodding along the skin. When she swore and nearly jumped out of her skin, Din frowned. She’d gotten lucky, though. Only two broken bones. It would look worse than it was in a couple of days.

Sitting back, Din considered the body in the room. “Doesn’t take rejection well, does he?” he said dryly, recognizing the human from the bar three nights ago. Standing and walking across the floor, he turned the body with his boot. It was an effort not to suck in a breath and wince. One of the man’s eyes had been punctured, likely by Tesabi’s fingers, the other side of his face a mess of bloody claw marks, and there was another, smaller knife dug into his belly.

It was actually pretty impressive. She’d taken on two men, more than both twice her size, and now Din wasn’t sure that she had entirely needed his help. Surrounding the knife, there were multiple stab wounds, quick and vicious. He looked over at her, and found that she’d been regarding him as well, expression curious. They both hung there in silence for a moment.

“You helped,” Tesabi said dumbly, her senses muddled as the adrenaline faded. “Thanks…”

“I don’t like stiffing people who work for me,” the Mandalorian said by way of explanation.

Tesabi took him in again, really looking this time. Bounty hunters weren’t exactly known for helping out of the goodness of their heart, or usually bound by some sense of morality when it came to paying for services. Maybe it was the Mandalorian code, then? And not the guild one? She found herself smiling slightly.

“Well, then you have my thanks, Mandalorian,” she said, nodding her head at him. “If you help me get rid of these,” she gestured at the bodies, “I’ll consider us even.”

He _did_ help her, but she still found the rest of the payment in her shop the next morning, when the Mandalorian and his Razor Crest were gone. Tesabi smiled as she counted the credits, shaking her head.

_Years Later:_

Despite everything, Din still needed to make money. And he needed repairs. The planet he landed on was a familiar one. It had been years, but he still remembered the tiny mechanic that fought like a wild cat, and where he had helped her dump two bodies in a sink hole about two clicks away.

The shopfront was unchanged, with the name ‘MOCKRI’ still displayed in large, if slightly faded letters. The door was open when he approached, but a glance down at the fully functional keypad reassured him that nothing was amiss. The front room was empty as he stepped inside, but there were steps coming down the stairs.

Tesabi blinked at the shiny Mandalorian standing in her shop. Then blinked again. The nostalgia that washed over her was pleasant, and she found herself smiling. The armor was too different to be the one from all those years ago, but it was nice to recall the interesting few days she had spent working on his ship.

“Hey, there,” she said, not finding it at all difficult to maintain her usual ‘amiable shopkeeper’ attitude. “What can I do for you?”

Instead of responding the Mandalorian’s gaze rolled over her, considering and all too familiar. “Just a tune up while I resupply.” 

“I’ll come have a look,” she said, throwing a bag over her shoulder. Then she paused, eyes sliding over to the diag droid sleeping in its charging port. Looking back up, she bit her lip briefly in thought. “You… you wouldn’t happen to be the same Mandalorian that was around these parts about five years ago, would you?” This one was about the same size and build as the one she remembered, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Despite himself, Din felt a smile pulling at his lips, and his exhale of a laugh rushed through the helmet’s modulator. “You have a good memory,” he said. 

Tesabi’s face lit up, her smile widening. Then it sharpened, her brows furrowing as mischief danced in her eyes. “I _told_ you I didn’t want your money,” she said, one hip jutting out and her hand resting against it. 

“Told you before,” Din said, turning back to the door. “Don’t like not paying what’s owed.”

She blinked after him for a moment before she followed. “Now who has a long memory?” she muttered under her breath. 

It was the same ship she remembered, a few of the panels replaced and redone, but underneath was the same Razor Crest. Din saw the corner of her mouth pull up in a smile. Out of the corner of his visor, he took her in again. 

Not much had changed. Her hair was still short on one side, but the rest had grown out a bit, hanging past her shoulder. A tattoo he didn’t remember was peeking out above the collar of her jumpsuit, which looked to be the same one as before, just with more patches. Her nose was slightly crooked now, and there was a scar across one cheek.

He knew she couldn’t tell he was looking at her directly when she looked over at him again. Din had a brief flash of memory, remembering the fire in in her eyes. But all and all, she was still the same small, easy-smiling woman he remembered.

“You good with me going inside?” she asked, breaking him from his reverie. “Doesn’t look like there’s a hole for me to work through this time.” She got a quiet huff of breath, audible through his modulator, and took it as the Mandalorian warrior version of a laugh.

Din stepped away from her and started walking up the ramp. “This way.”

000

He had a kid.

The big, scary Mandalorian bounty hunter had adopted a small green child with the biggest eyes and ears that Tesabi had ever seen. She was quite certain that she hadn’t been meant to know that the did was there. She had been hip deep in one of the access panels for the hydraulic system when she felt a tug on her pantleg.

It startled her enough that she smacked her head on the way out with a curse. But when she looked around, there was nothing. Tesabi frowned. Then there was a soft noise near her feet, and she thanked the Maker that she didn’t follow through with her first instinct to punt the little green and brown shape across the ship.

Big brown eyes stared up at her, head tilted curiously. 

“Um… hello?” Tesabi offered.

There was a thump from the level above her, and then the Mandalorian was coming down the ladder.

Din found Tesabi crouched down, offering her finger to the foundling. He babbled and clutched the finger in his tiny claws, tugging it forward and making the mechanic laugh. The lightness of the sound surprised him. It wasn’t dry or mocking, but soft and gentle.

Then she looked up, directing her smile at him. “What’s their name?” she asked.

Of course she would ask that. Walking forward, Din looked down. The foundling turned away from Tesabi, shuffling over to clutch at Din’s leg. Obligingly, Din lifted him into his arms, Tesabi standing with them.

“He doesn’t have one yet,” Din finally said.

This hadn’t been a planning thing, Tesabi realized. Somewhere in his travels, this bounty hunter had found himself the guardian of this child. He hadn’t set out to be a parent, but he wasn’t shrugging off the responsibility. The thought made Tesabi’s chest feel warm, and her smile softened, eyes lowering back to the child.

“Names are important,” she said, wiggling her fingers at the babbling child. “Take your time finding the right one.”

Din watched the two of them, the child reaching eagerly for Tesabi’s work-worn hands, squirming happily in his hold and smiling. An answering expression spread under his helmet.

000

_‘Fucking Imperials,’_ Tesabi thought, not for the first time. She was staring out the window of the Razor Crest’s cockpit, watching the stars streak by through the hyper space jump.

They had blown up her shop. Reduced it to rubble for daring to repair _that_ Mandalorian’s ship. She supposed that she should have been mad at him. He knew he’d pissed them off with the… weird, cute frog kid, and had still come to her for repairs. But having been made an orphan during the Empire’s rule, Tesabi was more inclined to blame the Storm Troopers that had showed up out of fucking nowhere with the biggest gun she’d ever seen.

“Fuck,” she muttered into the silence, slumping in the chair.

The Mandalorian’s head turned towards her slightly, a quiet rasp of metal accompanying the movement. Tesabi blinked and lifted her head to look at him. Right. She should probably thank him. Instead of running like a normal person, he’d come back and pulled her out of the burning mess of the shipyard.

“Um…” His head turned away, back to the controls. “Thanks,” she said lamely. That was hardly the way to be grateful to someone who had saved her _life_ , even if her livelihood _had_ gone up in smoke. “I mean… you didn’t have to come back, so… thank you.”

Din wasn’t sure he deserved that thanks, but he still inclined his head in acknowledgment. “You have anywhere you want me to take you?” he asked. He had no idea what she’d do if she _did_ have a place to go; she’d escaped with the clothes on her back, a bloody boot knife, and a stolen Imperial blaster. She had taken out a few of the Imps on her way, too.

Tesabi shook her head before she realized that he couldn’t see her. “No,” she murmured. “No, home was… back there. Kriffing…” She heaved another sigh, head dropping and a hand carding through her hair. She winced as she encountered the gash at the back of her head, courtesy of being blown across her shop full of metal and tools. “Shit.”

Beneath the helmet, Din frowned, thinking. “I can pay you,” he said abruptly. She didn’t seem the type to take well to offers of charity so he continued before she could interrupt. “For work here. Could use a good mechanic. And… someone to watch the kid.”

Right. The _kid_. The kid with weird, telekinetic powers that were a little too much like the Force for her liking. “Um, did… did you _know_ he could do that?” she finally asked. Her parents, before they died, had told her never to mention what they taught her about the Force outside their home.

There was a long, long pause. “Yes.” 

Well, that explained _so_ much. Tesabi narrowed her eyes at the back of his head, then sighed. “I can… I can do that,” she finally said. She shifted in her seat. “I can—fuck!” Her back suddenly blazed with pain, her curse loud and fervent enough to make Din turn his head. 

“You hit?” he asked. Shock could cause people not to notice injuries sometimes, even if they were serious.

Tesabi tried to reach back to see, and the pull of skin and muscle lit her up all over again, and she actually felt tears prick her eyes. The adrenaline was definitely wearing off. “Not a blaster,” she muttered, standing carefully, posture stiff. She blinked when she realized that he was standing too, reaching out to turn her slowly by the shoulders.

She let him, feet shifting slowly on the floor. She felt hands curl into the collar of her jacket, and she hissed as he eased it down her arms. The soft hiss of breath through his vocoder made her scowl. “That bad, huh?”

How… how had she not noticed when she threw her jacket on? A deep, weeping scrape had torn open the back of her shirt, grinding the torn fabric into the ragged flesh of her back. It wasn’t deep, but it was nearly as wide as his hand, raked from her midback all the way up to her shoulder.

“Come on.”

A gloved hand closed around her upper arm, and Tesabi found herself being lead into the belly of the ship, to a corner near his bunk room with a medical cabinet set into the wall. A waist-high cot was folded into the wall, and Tesabi undid the latch when she felt her knees starting to shake. She braced her hands on it with her back to the Mandalorian, focusing on maintaining her breathing. It was really starting to hurt. 

“Shirt has to come off, yeah?” she muttered. By now, she had realized that her bra had been shorn apart at the back, and was sure that her shirt was ruined. Beside her, she saw the shining beskar figure open the cabinet and pull out a med kit. He nodded as he laid out saline wash, bacta spray, and a syringe.

Din touched the syringe. “You want pain killers?”

Tesabi shook her head. “No,” she said through clenched teeth. “Just… fuck. Just go.”

He didn’t question her answer as he moved around to stand behind her. The wound was just as angry and painful looking as ever. It had probably happened when she was thrown back in the first explosion. A trickle of dried blood at the back of her neck drew his attention. 

The feather light touch of his gloved fingertips at the back of her neck made Tesabi’s breath hitch. “Just a split,” she muttered. “Knew about that one.” 

All she got was a quite sound of acknowledgement. “I’m going to touch your back now.” 

The declaration made her pause briefly, blinking. “Thanks,” she murmured.

Din began the slow, careful process of peeling away the remains of her shirt. The fabric had been ground into her flesh in places, and there were traces of chemical burns along the edges of the wound. It was a slow process, each thread pulled from her body a sharp stab of pain. But she swallowed her snarls and shouts in favor of whispered, vehement curses.

It actually impressed him. Din had expected her to ask for the drugs about halfway through, but she still hadn’t by the time her back was naked and her shirt and bra were sagging around her shoulders. He saw her knees start to shake before she realized anything, stepping forward and thrusting a leg between hers as they finally gave out, the arm going around her waist like an iron bar keeping her in place.

“Kriff… ’m sorry,” she muttered, wincing at how weak her voice sounded. 

The moment she took was intended to get her body back under control. But suddenly, all she could focus on was how strong the Mandalorian felt, his leg keeping her up, the cool beskar of his gauntlet digging into the soft skin of her belly. He had to be arched away from her, to keep from making contact with her back.

Impossibly, Tesabi felt _color_ rising to her cheeks. She knew she was small, that she was probably taller than an above-average Jawa. But the fact was suddenly blatantly apparent when compared to the size and strength of the man behind her. He wasn’t the _tallest_ human she had ever seen, but he still made her intensely aware of her own small stature.

“I’m good,” she grunted, locking her knees. She wanted to use one of her arms to hold the remains of her shirt against her chest, the cool air of the ship licking at the undersides of her breasts. But she knew she needed the support of both arms. She was more than happy to keep facing away from him, knowing the warmth in her cheeks and neck and flushed her skin a bright pink.

Din waiting a moment before stepping back from her and continuing with the task. The rest went by in a blur, even the plucking of blunted tweezers to remove the larger debris unable to shake her from the strange, flustered headspace. The wash of cool saline was a beautiful relief, a rag held gently against her skin to catch the runoff. And the bacta was heaven. The natural numbing agent had Tesabi sighing with relief, letting her body curl forward to rest her forehead against the cool metal of the bench.

“Thanks,” she muttered, slowly wrapping her arms around her middle to keep herself covered.

Din surveyed his work, watching her back rise and her ribs expand with each breath, the wound still raw and angry looking against her skin, even scabbed over by the rapid work of the bacta. Something about that much exposed skin was making him feel… warm. He took another half-step back. She would need clothes.

“I’ll find you something to wear,” he said, and then he had vanished into his room, and Tesabi was alone.

And somehow, she was still thinking about him. About the surprisingly gentle touch of his gloved hands, his quiet warnings each time he was about to touch her, or to begin work on a particularly nasty looking spot. And… and _fuck,_ him pressing up against her when her knees gave out, the way he held her as if she weighed nothing. Tesabi squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her forehead hard into the metal of the bench.

 _‘Hardly the time,’_ she chastised herself. When she heard the Mandalorian return, she slowly stood, turning to lean her backside against the bench, one arm still folded under her breast.

“Here,” Din said, holding out one of his undershirts. She would probably be swimming in it, but it was something. Then he nodded towards his room, the spare bunk opened and made up. “Get some rest.” Then he turned, vanishing back into the cockpit without another word. Tesabi stared dumbly after him for longer than she’d like to admit, clutching the shirt that smelled of fabric freshers and metal. 

000

This was stupid. This was so astronomically _stupid_.

Tesabi had done quite a few stupid things in her lifetime. Developing a weird infatuation with a man who might as well be a droid hidden away in beskar armor was definitely at the top of the list. But Mando—she’d had to call him something—had worked his way under her skin in a way no other man, woman, or otherwise ever had. 

Alright, maybe the droid thing was unfair. A few weeks into working with him, Tesabi had discovered that he had a scathing sense of humor, and a frankly _fatherly_ attachment to the Child, which he sometimes called the Foundling. It was actually sweet to watch them together.

That kindness reminded her of the way he’d helped her when they first met, that unflinching loyalty to his code that had led him up her stairs when he could have just taken his money and left. Strangely enough, she wasn’t scared of him. She felt _safe_ around him, in fact. He had never been anything but polite to her. No trying to watch her changing, no unnecessary touches. He said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ with surprising regularity.

And he paid better than anyone else Tesabi had ever worked for. 

Not that she could use the money to upgrade her shop like she’d planned, but she now had better tools than anything she could have dreamed of before. The only real problem was just how _big_ he was. He wasn’t bulky, seemingly built for speed and agility rather than just brute strength. But _oh_ , was he ever strong. That was another problem.

With a quiet groan, Tesabi buried her head in her hands. It had stared with a simple, off-handed comment, almost a _joke_. Tesabi, in all her wisdom, had said, “if I’m ever in your way, just move me.” It had been _meant_ as a way to let him know she would do her utmost not to bother him.

But _then,_ the Mandalorian had taken to moving her out of his way rather than just saying something, manhandling her to where he wanted without a word. That… Fuck, he really had no idea what he was doing to her. It should probably frustrate her, being treated similarly to the Child. 

But it didn’t.

That, on top of the fact that he was actually _nice_ under all the beskar and voice modulators and poignant silences, was a recipe for ruin. Tesabi’s ruin specifically. Because she had no intention of ever saying a _word_ about it to any living soul. Except maybe the Child, who she was pretty sure didn’t really understand.

She still dreamt about the first night on the ship, her half naked and with him towering behind her, so careful of her delicate skin. Just thinking about it for a moment flushed her cheeks. The sensation of warmth rolling down her spine spurred Tesabi into action, pushing up to her feet and walking over to where the Child was growing slower in his play, eyelids drooping and his babble quieting.

“C’mon, kiddo,” Tebasi murmured, bouncing him gently in her arms as he nuzzled happily into her chest. He was asleep by the time you returned to his nook, laying him down in a pile of blankets, one of which she was certain was Mando’s spare cape. Smiling fondly, she eased the door closed, wandering back down to the hold.

000

Din hated hunting. Specifically, he hated hunting _animals_.

People were infinitely easier. Well… mostly. _People_ didn’t usually come with claws and some kind of bio-electric energy field that had interfered with the magnetics of his beskar just enough to manage to leave him with four deep gashes across his back. Gashes that he wasn’t going to be able to tend to himself. Gashes he would have to _show_ her.

Kriff.

He knew that him dropping the ramp by remote would alert her to his return, but he dragged the beast’s body down to the hold, hoisting it up onto a hook by the binding holding its hind legs together. A quick blast and it was frozen. Good, one step down. The soft shift of rubber soles behind him alerted Din to Tesabi’s presence. 

Before he could turn, she made a strangled noise of surprise and horror. “ _Stars_ , Mando! What happened?!”

His cape was in tatters, stained with blood. Confusion rolled up on the worry; his armor was still in place under it so…

Din released the magnetics of the back of his cuirass, undoing the twist of the cape tucked into the front of his beskar. 

Oh _fuck_. Tesabi was stepping into his space without thinking, her eyes wide as she surveyed the deep slashes across his back, the layers of his clothes hanging in tatters, sticky with blood. The first fully-formed thought that made it out of her mouth was, “you can’t cauterize this.” She wouldn’t let him, even if it had been possible. It needed proper medical—

“I know.” Din turned, pushing past her. He heard her following quickly behind him as he moved towards his quarters. Just outside of it was the medical corner.

As he pulled out the necessary supplies, Tesabi caught on to what he was doing and ran to the fresher to sanitize her hands, coming back with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. What she saw had color blooming in her cheeks. Mando had somehow managed to rip open the back of his shirt enough to bare the scratches, the strips of ruined fabric and leather hanging down over his waist.

Tesabi had never so much as seen Mando’s bare _hands_ , and now the huge expanse of his back was exposed to her, skin a light, golden brown, shining with sweat and blood. It was…

“Mando…?” The thought that he might have broken a tenant of his creed by coming back injured, and her _seeing_ …

“It’s fine,” Din grit out. 

He knew that there were stricter clans than his, clans where showing so much as an _inch_ of skin to anyone other than the clan healer or a life partner—and those were exceptionally rare—was grounds for shame and banishment. He could practically hear her hesitation, the worry almost radiating from her as she took a careful step towards him. While he appreciated the respect and caution, now was not the time.

“Come on.” He pointed with one hand to the suture gun and sanitizing supplies.

That was enough for her. If Mando was asking—okay, more like _telling_ —then it had to be alright. Stepping up, Tesabi still felt her breath catch in her throat. Shaking her head, she sprayed a quick saline wash down each of the slashes, watching the muscles of his back twitch. Maker, he… he was _beautiful_. The warm brown of his skin was just…

No.

Tesabi shook her head, setting down the saline and picking up the blunted tweezers. “Few threads,” she said, voice stiff and tight. “And some dirt. I’m going… I’m going to touch you now.” 

All she got was a stiff nod of the helmet in response, Mando’s hands braced on the fold-out metal bench. She was struck by the similarity of the position, their roles reversed. Somehow, she felt that Mando was far more exposed than she had ever been.

The first touch of her hands—cool from the water of the fresher—made Din tense. It was just a little twitch, but she still felt it, and he heard her murmur an apology. She was as careful and methodic with his back as she was with her repairs, for which he was grateful.

But as the seconds ticked by, all he could feel was the palm she had settled to the side of his wound, her bare skin against his. The coolness of her hand lasted barely a moment, and it soon felt nearly scorching, his awareness zeroing in on the gentle pressure of her touch.

And, unable to see her face, Din didn’t realize that Tesabi was focused on the same thing. Well, at least her _mind_ was. It was easy to rely on muscle memory and reflex for picking the dirt, thread, and other debris from the edges of the slashes, but all she could think about was how she could feel the subtle rise and fall of Mando’s carefully controlled breathing.

His skin was almost feverish to the touch, flushed and sweating with the exertion of the hunt. When the first step was done, she set the tweezers aside, clicking softly against the bench. “Bacta now,” she murmured, reaching over. 

The hand braced beside the wounds shifted away from him slightly, and Din’s body reacted without permission, touch-starved and suddenly desperate to maintain the new contact. He leaned back just enough, pressing into her palm once more. He knew she noticed by the way she paused, her other hand hovering beside him over the bacta spray.

The two of them hung there, suspended in the moment. The heat in Tesabi’s cheeks rolled down, twisting tight in her chest before lowering to the pit of her stomach. He… he liked it. Something in him _liked_ the touch of her hand, of her skin—oh, _Maker_ —of her skin against his.

Mando’s breathing rattled loudly through the speakers of his helmet, less controlled now. He didn’t draw back, unsure if he was allowing himself the touch or just couldn’t move away from it. He nodded, grunting softly for her to continue.

For a moment, the bacta spray numbed the pain of the wound, but that only intensified Din’s awareness of her touch. She was so… so _gentle_ , even as she pressed the suture gun to is skin to pop in the first stitch. The sutures themselves didn’t hurt much; it was the open flesh being pulled back together. The numbness of the bacta quickly wore off, pain roaring quickly up in Din’s mind.

The two sensations clashed, and his whole body went rigid. It was… it was like he was fighting all over again. But a _good_ fight, a fight against someone strong, someone he could go all out against. Fresh adrenaline rolled through him, heating his blood as his pulse quickened all over again.

Tesabi was pressed close, careful and accurate each time she pressed the gun into his skin. She could feel the tension of him, hear the rasp of his breathing through the helmet. And it… it was _getting_ to her, her mind only too happy to imagine that he was breathless for an entirely _different_ reason. Her body responded in kind, her heart hammering against the tightness of her ribs.

She was halfway down the second gash when she saw his shoulder move, pulling the suture gun back in time as his arm snapped back and grabbed hold of her. Strong, gloved fingers dug into her hip, tight enough to bruise. A quiet whimper escaped her clenched teeth, heat blooming all over again. And then Mando didn’t let go.

Instead, he held her there, practically pulled flush against him as she closed the wounds stitch by stich. It had to hurt; Tesabi would have tried to hold his hand if she hadn’t needed both of her own. She pretended that she didn’t notice the hitch in his breathing each time she moved the hand not holding the gun, pressing gently between the stripes of his wounds, pressing the skin together for the gun. Pain and gentleness and _too much_.

It had been almost two decades.

Eighteen years since another living person’s hands had touched his skin. It had been in training, a fight before he’d ever left the covert. And even _then_ it had been with gloved hands. The hand of another former foundling, catching his wrist in an attempt to throw him.

This… _this_ … was _dangerous_.

And Tesabi was too smart not to notice. The woman who could hear just a single delay in one piston out of man many in a machine would definitely notice the subtle ways he moved; the way his breath would stutter no matter how hard he tried to control it. And she was leaning into it, canting her hip into the vice-like grip he had on her, trying to offer… something. If Din didn’t even know what he wanted, how could she?

Tesabi _did_ notice. She saw the way his hands clenched, heard the accompanying creak of leather. She _felt_ it in the grasp on her hip, keeping her up against the back of his legs, keeping her _close_. This couldn’t last, she was sure of it. He was just overwhelmed by the naked touch. It couldn’t happen often for him, and it was just…

What if he didn’t let go? What if—?

Stars, this was bad. She wanted him to touch more of her. To leave hand-shaped bruises on her thighs, her hips, her waist… She wouldn’t ask. Wouldn’t ask for a kiss, wouldn’t ask for _anything_. But oh, did she ever _want_. 

He would pull away the moment she was done. She was sure of it. Mando would retreat to his quarters or the fresher and seal himself away from her eyes and touch. He was just… Just…

“Almost done,” Tesabi whispered.

Din could _hear_ it. 

He could hear the thickening of her voice, the lower pitch, the desire she was trying to swallow down. With that sudden understanding, he also realized that her free hand was trembling; the one not holding the gun stitching him back together shook gently with each gentle touch. He could feel her reaching the end of the last gash, the burning heat of pain in his back tangled up with the heat coming to life in his chest, rolling down his spine to…

Maker, he was _hard_.

Din’s teeth clenched, and he took in a long, careful breath through his nose. He shifted his hand on her hip, little more than a flex of his fingers and an adjustment of his grip. But it was enough. He could hear the way she tried to stifle the whine, a sound not of pain, but of…

“Done,” Tesabi said. 

The moment the suture gun clicked down on the bench beside him, Din was moving. He spun and dragged her around, reversing their positions and pressing himself flush against her back, his hands anchoring themselves on her waist. Something hard was pressed into her lower back, just above the cleft of her ass, and she let out a shuddering breath. Mando’s armor didn’t have a codpiece. That was… that was _him_.

Din stared down at her, gaze riveted on the flush coloring the back of her neck, the way her head bowed while her body leaned willing into him, pushing back. The dark lines curling up from under collar were the inked shapes of crawling vines, flowers budding across them in brilliant color.

Her breathing was ragged, and she failed to strangle the soft moan that left her as he slid one arm around her waist. Tesabi didn’t have it in her not to whimper as the other hand left her waist, slipping down to press into her lower belly. Mando’s gloved fingertips werejust a scant inch away from the apex of her thighs.

The cool press of beskar to the back of her neck made her sigh, and she reached behind her, careful not to touch the helmet, to not startle him. Instead, she hooked two fingers in the top of his chest plate, her other hand sliding against one of his as she plucked at the button of her fly. A groan rattled softly behind her as she slowly, _slowly_ pushed down the zipper, using her hand to guide his under the fabric, into the last barrier of her underwear.

The leather of his gloves was smooth and supple with use, and the touch somehow set Tesabi aflame more than any naked hand ever had. Her breath hitched as Mando took over, using his foot to kick her legs apart so that he could cup her sex, the touch sensors in the fingertips of his gloves allowing him to feel the heat radiating from her cunt.

Just as quickly, Din pulled the glove away. He ignored Tesabi’s little groan of protest, bringing his fingertips to her mouth. “Bite,” he ordered. There was a brief pause before she nodded almost imperceptibly in understanding, catching the glove with her teeth and letting him pull free. His bare hand drug back down her body, both of them groaning as he dipped a finger between her legs.

She was _soaked_ , the fabric encasing her damp with the fervency of her arousal, his fingers slipping against her. Her little body jerked against his chest as he parted her folds, finding her inner lips firm and swollen, hot to the touch with arousal. Something akin to wonder shuddered through him. This… this was for _him_. She had been just as affected by touching him as he had, and it was impossible not to rock his erection into her, one finger crooking to find the hard little jut of her clit.

“M-Mando?” It was almost a question, the way she squeaked it out, as if somehow still unsure of what he wanted.

He leaned in again, crowding her forward until she had to brace on the bench with her hands, his helmet nestling into the curve of her neck and shoulder. “Please,” was all he said, and somehow it was worse than him explaining, than anything he could have said. It nearly made lump rise in Tesabi’s throat, thick with emotion and need.

Just… ‘ _please’_.

“Anything,” Tesabi whispered back, feeling a shudder roll through the body behind her, the soft scrape of metal-on-metal. 

It was the truth. She would give him anything. Absolutely _anything_ the Mandalorian asked for, she would give.

She gasped when his hand left her, when he stepped back and yanked her pants and underwear down over her ass, bending and exposing her. For a moment, she thought he meant to take her like that, unprepared and bent for him like… like… 

Her cunt clenched at the mere _thought_.

But his hands—both of them bare now—caressed her hips, drawing carefully over the soft skin as if to memorize every little variation in the shape of her. Din crouched behind her, helping her out of her boots and peeling away her pants, then her underwear. The wet patch at the crotch made his cock twitch painfully in its confinement. When her feet stepped apart, when she spread herself for him, he almost thought his heart would skip a beat.

His hands slid up her thighs as he stood, spreading her cheeks and marveling at the warm, flushed pink revealed to him. When his fingers dipped into her again, one knuckle curling to nudge at her clit, Tesabi shuddered, curling forward over the bench. Another dipped into her, pressing deep. She gasped and clenched around him, pushing her hips back.

“Mando, please…” Despite her better judgement, she didn’t want to bother with foreplay, body aching for more, for _all_ of him.

“Be _patient_ ,” he growled, watching her body shiver at his commanding tone, his eyes widening slightly behind the helmet in realization. He paused, rocking his knuckle slowly against her clit. Her arms were shaking, head bowed between her shoulders. 

Leaning forward, Din pressed a second finger into her. The lure of her bared neck, the desire to _bite_ and _mark_ and _claim_ roared in his chest. Instead, he pushed a hand under her shirt, pushing her bra out of the way and catching a nipple between his fingers. 

Tesabi’s whole body jerked at the sudden pinch. But the sound she made wasn’t one of alarm; she wanted Mando to know that she _liked_ what he was doing, that she _wanted_ him to be rough with her, to just—

He pinched again, twisting slightly. Her mouth fell open with a broken sound, body pushing back, unable to form the words for all the things she wanted. His chest plate pressed into her back, pushing and pushing until her arms gave out and she was pinned from hips to shoulders to the bench. She whimpered, but her cunt clenched greedily, her clit throbbing at the slow, constant attention.

“You want it like this?” Din rasped, caging her, trapping her against him, something possessive singing in his veins.

Oh, _stars_ , yes! 

“Please,” she said. The low sound the Mandalorian made sounded almost… broken. It was raw and sharp and… and beautiful. “’M ready,” Tesabi gasped. “P-promise!”

Din paused for a fraction of a second, then laughed softly at how needy she sounded, almost as needy as he felt. “Want to feel you first,” he said, moving against her clit with more pressure, a faster rhythm, matched by the thrusting of his fingers. 

The metal of the bench that had been cool beneath her quickly warmed with her rapid breathing and rising body temperature, her hands scrabbling for some kind of hold. There was nothing, just heat and building pressure between her legs and the press of Mando above her. She realized his hand was still at her breast when he squeezed at her again, rolling a nipple between two fingers, just sharp enough to edge her closer.

Tesabi’s toes curled against the floor, her thighs starting to tremble, her hips trying to rock even with nowhere to go. Din could feel it, could feel the warmth of her body rising under his hand, her cunt tightening in waves around his fingers. He heard her whimper the name she called him, what so many called him when he gave nothing more than a look.

“Din,” he growled in her ear. “My name is Din.”

The realization of what he’d given her, that surprise and wonder, was enough to make her body jerk back into his touch, a whine strangled in her throat. “Fuck, Man—Din…” She was so close, so _beautifully_ close. “Din, _please_!”

And then she heard him say _her_ name, the syllables growled through the helmet’s vocoder like a fucking _prayer_.

Color burst behind her closed lids as she tipped over the edge, feeling her body float, drawn out tight along the swell of sensation. The crash down was almost as good as the crest, rushing through her as her breathing stuttered, chest tight and fuzzy and _perfect_.

Stars, she sounded beautiful. Wrecked and open and _warm_ , her voice pitched lower, body clenching greedily around three of his fingers, wetness seeping out around them. Din didn’t stop moving his hand until her hips flinched and her whimper took on a more urgent tone.

He wanted to kiss the back of her neck, to taste the salt of her skin. He almost tried to argue with himself, thinking maybe if she just didn’t _see_ … Din pulled back from the thoughts quickly, bracing a hand on Tesabi’s hip as he straightened up. For a moment, he looked at his hand, fingers shining with her slick. His other hand balled briefly into a fist before he was fumbling at his belt, groaning as he pulled himself out, hard and leaking.

Tesabi wanted so badly to turn around. Not to look at him, not to see, but to have _him_ see, to see what he was doing to her—had done—how he was making her feel. But she didn’t, just adjusting her stance and pushing herself up against him again, breath hitching at the touch of heated, almost velvety skin against her backside.

“Fuck. It’s—” She had to swallow, pulse still pounding and legs trembling. “Please, Din. ‘S safe. I won’t… _please_.” 

Her whimpering, stilted words made Din’s stomach twist pleasantly, and he hummed softly as he used the slick on his fingers to wet his cock, the other hand pulling one cheek of her ass to the side, staring down at her. Maker, she was beautiful. He saw the vague way she pressed at a small scar on her bicep, the one he already knew marked her contraceptive implant.

“Heard a lot of begging in my time,” he rumbled, stroking the head of his cock along her folds, watching her entrance twitch, “though none quite as sweet as yours.” He bucked forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in a single stroke.

Tesabi felt as if the air had been driven out of her, her cry soundless and gasping. He was _so_ —kriff. It was all she could do to keep breathing, even as he held perfectly still, hands anchored on her hips, thumbs drawing slow circles on her lower back. Just like the rest of him, his cock was thick and solid, and _so_ _warm_. It was too much, stretching her wider than she’d ever been;’ it was _perfect_. Slowly, he pushed his hands up, hiking her shirt up over her back, tugging gently until Tesabi came up on her elbows.

Then she pushed up further, arching her back and whimpering as he shifted inside her. But the angle let him slide her shirt and bra over her head, fingertips skimming her sides as he let her lower back down. There was a scar along her back, wide and pink. It was from the night they’d fled. His touch along its length was oddly comforting, and Tesabi hummed softly, letting him lay her out on her stomach again, pushing her hips back as he did.

Din’s hands flew back to her hips, intending to steady himself, to give her another moment to adjust. But she murmured his name and did her best to roll her hips where he pinned her to the bench, tight enough that she was sure to have a solid bar of bruising across the top of her thighs.

It was too much.

Pushing an arm under her, he cupped her chest with one hand, the other bracing on the bench beside of her. She made a stilted, shaking sound at his first thrust, clutching at his hand with hers. She sounded _relieved_ , like she had been waiting and wanting and finally had what she _needed_.

Din realized he didn’t have it in him to be slow or gentle any more. All wanted was to drown in her, to _feel_ every inch of her, everything she was willing to give him. She swore at the second thrust—a gasp that might have been his name—and moaned openly at the third.

The pace he set was _brutal_ , pounding into her and making the bench rattle. Tesabi realized that she was up on her toes to be level with him. She had never thought that being made small would feel like this; heady, warm… 

Her chest was tight, not unlike when she was scared or anxious. But it was… fuzzy… at the edges. It felt _perfect_ , better than anything else she’d had, anything she’d—

“You feel so fucking _good_ …” 

It was a growl in her ear, so close she swore that she could almost hear the Mandalorian’s _real_ voice under the filter of the speakers. He palmed her breast, pushing away from the wall to heft both in his hands, tugging at her nipples and groaning as her body clenched in reaction. Tesabi could only whimper in response, overwrought and drowning in sensation. She was saying his name—he had told her _name_ —over and over and _over_ again.

Din was seized by the sudden, irresistible need to see her, to watch her face as he fucked her. Tesabi’s eyes snapped open—when had she closed them?—when he pulled out of her, and she made a petulant growling noise. Din’s laugh was rough as he turned and lifted her, setting her on the edge of the bench and drawing her back to him.

He didn’t look down as he angled himself and thrust into her again, hands lifting to cup her sides, watching the way her chest expanded and shrank with a groan. Her tits bounced in time with his thrusts as he started again., her head dropping back and exposing the graceful curve of her throat. Without thinking, his fingers pushed up to curl around it, feeling her breath hitch under his palm.

Din snatched his hand back like it had been burned, a prickle of shame at the back of his mind. Tesabi forced her eyes open, grabbing his wrist. She focused her gaze on the black t-shape of his visor, bringing his broad warm hand back to her throat. He watched her curl is fingers around her throat again, squeezing slightly, pressing them into her skin.

A shudder rolled through him, up from the base of his spine to his shoulders as he started to thrust again. He kept the hand anchored on her neck, not squeezing to cut off air, but to feel the race of her pulse, to feel each little gasping cry he wrought from her. And she _liked_ it. Her eyes were nearly black with how wide her pupils were blown, her hands braced behind her as she tried to push herself closer, to meet him.

Tesabi had thought she’d known what she needed to about herself when it came to sex. _This_ , this was different. The control she was giving up, the way he moved her as he pleased, took his pleasure from her. It was heady. The hand on her throat added a razor’s edge of fearful excitement, possessive and claiming. Her eyes started to flutter closed again.

“Look at me.” The harsh words were accompanied by Din’s hand moving between them, slowing his thrusts just enough to find her clit again. The grip left her neck, cupping the side of her face and jaw, keeping her face angled to him. “I want… want to see you.” He wanted to watch her fall apart, see his effect on her.

Tesabi bit her lip _hard_. She wanted to see him too, to see the pleasure he took from touching her, from seeing her bare her skin and face and pleasure where he could not. She wanted to see it so badly that she ached. But she would _never_. She would _never_ ask that.

So she locked her eyes on his visor, making her best effort to keep her eyes open as his nimble fingers started working her towards a second climax. She didn’t know if she even _could_ , her body aching with his hammering thrusts. She would be sore and tender for _days_. But she wanted to come for him so badly, to let him see what he did, to give that to him.

A hum rolled through her, eyes fluttering as she savored the stretch, thick and unrelenting. Stars, how long had she been wanting this? When had he _started_? “Din—fuck…” She trailed off brokenly, unable to put words to the way he was making her feel, the pleasure in her gut twisting tighter and tighter, the stimulation bordering on _pain_ —

“Oh _fuck_!” 

Her curse vibrated against the Mandalorian’s hand, her body arching and going rigid, jaw dropping in a soundless cry. She nearly stopped breathing, whimpering as he fucked her through the climax. She felt wrung out and broken, pushed higher and higher and _higher_ —Maker, it was going on forever—until she was yanked back down, body clenching rhythmically around Din’s cock, wringing a strangled noise from _him_ this time.

Forcing her eyes open, Tesabi bit her lip, hyper aware of every touch. His hands had dropped back to her hips, keeping her in place. Somehow, he was fucking her harder, his breathing ragged, growling, head tipped down. He was watching himself fuck her, she realized, still riding the orgasm down.

“Din,” she said, voice low and thick. The helmet tipped up, and she imagined she could feel the heat of his gaze. Tesabi locked her ankles behind him. “I want you to come inside me.” 

Din groaned, finally letting himself go, unrepentant and wild. Tesabi pitched forward with a cry, and he gathered her in, pressing close as he hammered into her. When the knot twisted at the base of his spine finally snapped, he felt his nails biting into her soft skin, felt her body clench around him, her arms flung over his shoulders, thighs trembling in an attempt to hold him close.

The world spun, full of heat and darkness and so many wonderful, nameless things. Against his chest, Tesabi whimpered at the feel of him pulsing inside her, of his cum leaking out around the shaft, mixing with her slick and oozing between her legs. She was so content, even with the ache in her hips and the burning in her lungs.

Slumping forward, Din braced his hands on either side of her, helmet dropping to her shoulder. He was dimly aware of her squeezing his shoulder, a gentle pressure that he rolled up into. She was smiling lazily when he straightened, both of them groaning softly as he eased out of her.

Glancing down, Tesabi fought the urge to whistle. He looked just as impressive as he had felt. And to see him slick with both their fluids, a reminder of what they’d done… Some other time, she wanted to use her mouth, to look up at him while she sucked his cock down to the root.

Still smiling, she let her eyes close as she adjusted on the bench, listening to him step into his room. He came back a moment later, and when Tesabi opened her eyes, his pants were closed again, a damp cloth in his hand. She was still as he cleaned her, and grumbled softly as he helped her get her feet back on the floor.

Almost instantly, her legs wobbled, and Din caught her around the waist, her head tilting forward with a giggle. “Been a while?” she teased. “Because I dunno if I’ll make it to my bunk…” She gestured vaguely down the hall, away from the captain’s quarters to the small room with three cramped bunks where she had been sleeping.

Behind the mask of his helmet, Din frowned. He just hummed, bending to curl one of his arms behind her knees and lift her into the air. The way she squeaked and wound her arms around his neck was a lot cuter than he’d thought it’d be.

He carried her into his quarters, his bed only a little bigger than the one she had gotten used to. Too fucked out to really pay attention to the surroundings, Tesabi just hummed happily as she was laid out on clean sheets. She expected him to pull up the blankets and vanish, but instead was rewarded with the cool press of metal to her overheated skin, and _then_ the warmth of blankets. Humming again, she rolled, eyes closed to press her chest to his. 

Din paused at that. It was so… so _normal_. She cuddled up to him as if he were any other lover, laying naked with her in bed. Glancing down, there was nothing but contentment in her posture. He was just leaning his head back when she spoke.

“So…” Tesabi began, embarrassed and nervous even after what they had just done, “if you ever… want to do that _again_ …” 

Din smiled under the helmet, and squeezed her shoulder. “I wouldn’t be opposed,” he rumbled.

Still floating in the afterglow, Tesabi found herself quite uninhibited. “Stars, you have a nice voice,” she murmured, turning her head to look up at him. Din had been a bounty hunter long enough to recognize honesty when he saw or heard it. That was all he could see in Tesabi’s face now.

Lifting a hand, he brushed his two fingers against her lips, pressing gently. It was the only kiss he could ever give her, and it was a wonder to watch her smile against his fingers and kiss him back before nuzzling into his chest as happily as if it were the finest silk.

Stars and Maker preserve him.

He was in trouble.

So _so much_ trouble.


End file.
